A Crichton Christmas Carol
by michael1812
Summary: Inspired by Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol.PostPKW.Crichton returns to Earth, and arrives at Christmas, only to receive some bad news.But before sadness takes its hold, three ghosts visit Crichton to remind him of the true meaning of Christmas.
1. Bad News

He was back.

He had returned.

It had taken him ages to do it, but it all did not matter anymore.

As the image of Earth burned into Crichton's eyes, and memories of past visitations began rolling across his mind like old movies he remembered seeing, Aeryn put her arms around his waist and kissed him gently on his cheek, knowing that coming here was very important for John.

''It's been a long time.'' John whispered.

''I do not regret leaving. I probably never will.''

D'Argo, John and Aeryn's 8-year old son, entered Command and grabbed his father's hand as he gazed upon the blue planet as well.

''But I'm glad I'm back.'' John added.

No more aliens.

No more threats.

No more being chased throughout the galaxy, and fearing Earth's destruction.

No more running. No more hiding.

This would be a happy occasion.

A happy time.

Pilot intercepted millions of frequencies as he approached Earth, and he filtered one out and broadcasted it throughout Moya.

''What's that, dad?'' D'Argo asked curiously as he listened to the music.

''Christmas music.'' John said merrily to his family.

Crichton almost had forgotten what it sounded like.

''Christmas...'' John said.

A happy time indeed.

* * *

John wasn't keen on the idea of going through the official channels again; this time he preferred to go undercover.

He even thought of a complete plan, which involved parking Moya behind the moon and taking a Transport Pod to a place on Earth (preferably a small town) where no-one would recognise either him or his alien family.

But John's plans were ruined when an American official contacted Moya and it's crew, inviting them to land.

''Welcome back to Earth.'' he said.

Pilot graciously accepted their hospitality and good manners, but before he could continue, the official went on.

''Can I speak to John Crichton?'' he asked. ''I'm afraid I have some bad news...''

* * *

''John...what are you doing? John!''

Crichton was unleashing his anger on random objects in his chamber.

He stopped the destruction when Aeryn walked in, who was desperately hoping that little D'Argo would not suddenly walk in and witness one of his father's mental breakdowns.

''John?'' she asked. ''John, tell me what's troubling you.''

Crichton looked into her eyes.

He looked older than she had ever seen him before.

''He's dead.'' John said. ''My father is dead.''

Aeryn didn't know what to say.

''I've traveled all the way back to Earth, just to witness his funeral.''

John cried, and Aeryn said nothing.

She knew that the only thing which mattered was her love.

''How...did he die?'' she asked.

''Heart-attack.'' John answered.

He was so angry.

Furious.

At himself.

This was the second time he didn't get to say goodbye.

First to his mother.

And now to his father.

Both died without John being there...

* * *

A silent cold wind was blowing across their heads.

John stood silently next to his wife and son at the cemetary, as he watched his father's coffin being lowered into the ground.

''Buried at Christmas.'' a man said in the crowd which had gathered to pay respect to Jack Crichton.

''How sad is that?''

John felt those words pierce his heart.

John knew that there were probably more people coming to this funeral to see him, the famous and almost legendary astronaut, then that there were people paying their last respect to his father.

John adjusted his sunglasses as he looked at them standing in the corner of his eyes.

They looked back.

''Let them stare.'' Crichton thought to himself.

Tiny little snowflakes were falling on his shoulders and hair, colouring his black leather Peacekeeper outfit white.

As the ceremony ended, the crowd of people slowly disbanded, and John was left standing there alone, as his wife and son stepped back, giving Crichton a moment alone.

He stood alone at his father's grave in silence, not knowing what to say.

''Me and my timing.'' John said to the ground.

''There was so much I wanted to tell you. So much I wanted you to see...''

''Look!'' he added as he pointed at his family who were waiting for him, standing beneath a large, old willow tree.

''There's your grandson! The next Crichton to haunt the stars!''

John tried to smile, but couldn't.

''I wish you could've seen him.''

With every sentence, it became harder for Crichton to speak.

''I wish I could've said goodbye.''

''No-one ever truly wants to say goodbye to their loved ones.'' a voice next to him suddenly said.

''In life, you always expect the ones you love to be around, but in the end, we all must accept that one day, even they will be gone.''

The ghost of Jack Crichton appeared next to John.

He simply stood there. As if he had always stood there.

''Dad?'' John asked.

He was dead, wasn't he?

Didn't John just saw him be buried? Did he not just attend his funeral?

Or was this the Ancient?

But he died as well...

''It was a trout, John.'' Jack said smiling.

''Shall we?''

''What do you-''

Jack pushed John into the pit where the coffin had just been buried, but as he fell into this abyss, the darkness just went on and on and on, and John felt like he was falling forever.

Until he finally felt ground beneath his feet.

John tried to breathe, but he couldn't.

He tried to see, but everything was black.

Until he pulled the sheets off off his body and found himself in a completely different place.

John was lying on the floor next to his bed.

In his old bedroom.

In his old house.

John clutched Winona in his hand as he walked around the room.

''See anything familiar?'' Jack asked.

John turned around and looked at his father.

''Shouldn't you be dead?'' he said.

A rude remark; he regretted saying it immediately, but shouting at his undead father seemed to be the only logical thing to do for him in this confusing place.

''I am dead, son.'' Jack answered.

''Then WHY are you still talking to me?'' John shouted.

''I am merely a memory, John.'' Jack said. ''Summoned here to tell tales...''

''Tales?''

''Tales of Christmas past.'' Jack said smiling.


	2. The Ghost of Christmas Past

Painful memories returned to John as he walked down the staircase, and into a familiar setting: the old living room.

Everyone was there.

His entire family, celebrating Christmas.

It was like John was watching an old videotape.

But as Jack followed him into the kitchen, one thing in particular crossed John's mind.

A memory.

A memory of Scarran torture and Ancient manipulation.

John left the house, and he would've ran down into the street if Jack's voice hadn't stopped him.

''John!'' he cried.

Frost had coloured the garden white.

''You don't remember, do you?'' Jack said.

The pale light created by the streetlights lit up the porch, the streets and the houses around them.

''It's past.'' John answered. ''History. Academic.''

John sighed.

''Gone.'' he added. ''Another lifetime.''

''You should never deny the existence of something that is part of you, son.''

''You sound like the Ancient.'' John replied.

''He was not your father.'' Jack said. ''I am.''

He walked towards John.

''And I say you should go back inside.''

John looked through the window, at the happy family inside.

''Inside that house I can only find sad, buried, old memories.'' he said.

''Once dug up, they would only cause me more pain.''

''Do you find it painful to think of me, son?'' Jack asked.

John felt the cold wind send shivers down his spine.

''Of course not, dad.'' he said.

''It's just...''

John didn't know what to say.

''Who are you?'' a little voice said.

John looked at the little boy standing in the doorway of the house.

He was surprised that the boy could see him.

''Me?'' John said. ''I'm no-one. I...I'm a friend.''

John crouched before the boy, feeling that he somehow knew this boy.

''You remind me of my son.'' he said to the little kid. ''How old are you?''

''5 and a half.'' the boy said proudly.

John smiled.

''My son's 8.'' he said.

The boy suddenly seemed a bit dissapointed.

''Oh, cheer up.'' John said. ''It won't be long before you are 8 too. And before you know it, you'll be 9. And after 9 comes?''

''Ten.'' the boy said.

''Wow,'' John said. ''You're smart.

The boy smiled.

John stood up, preparing to leave as he looked upon Jack's ghost.

''Are you leaving?'' the boy said.

''Yes, I am.'' John answered.

''Where are you going?''

John smiled again, and leaned towards the boy.

''Can you keep a secret?'' he said.

The boy nodded.

John aimed his gaze upon the sky.

''See that star? No wait...''

John searched the sky with his eyes.

''That one.'' he said as he pointed with his finger at a single, bright star in the dark sky.

The boy nodded, telling Crichton he saw it.

''That's where I'm going.'' John said.

''Can I come with you?'' the boy asked.

John sighed.

''Not today.'' he said. ''Perhaps, when you're older.''

''I'll be 8 soon.'' the boy said swiftly.

''I know you are.'' John said.

''John?'' a voice said. ''Johnny?''

The boy was distracted by his mother's voice, and when he looked back at the garden, John was gone.

''Johnny!'' his mother said as she found him standing outside, gazing at the stars.

''What are you doing out here? Get inside, quickly! Before you catch a cold!''

The little John Crichton walked back into the house, but before the doors closed, he looked at the stars once more, saying: ''Merry Christmas!''

A familiar cold wind gave John the shivers as he looked upon his father's coffin again.

''Never think back upon your past with pain or sadness.'' Jack's ghost said to John.

''Accept it. It is part of you.''

John put his sunglasses back on.

''You carry your memories and dreams with you through life. Use them wisely.''

As John looked at his father again, he faded away.

''Dad?'' he cried. ''Dad!''

But before John realised it, his father was gone.


	3. The Ghost of Christmas Present

John wanted to return to Moya and leave, but confusing enough Pilot did not answer his calls.

So, unable to return to their beloved Leviathan, IASA provided John and his family with a temporary place to stay: a luxurious hotel-suite.

But this did not come completely free: Crichton still had to avoid many questions about outer space and alien technology.

Although he did not like answering these annoying questions, he did do it, because free room-service and personal guards who oversaw everything in the hotel came in handy sometimes, especially when there are dozens of people standing at your front door, who would do anything to get to either you or your alien family.

''Dad?'' D'Argo asked his father. ''Why are all those people standing outside?''

John did not answer his son. His mind was completely someplace else.

''Was it all a dream?'' he thought to himself. ''Was it a hallucination? Or was it something else?''

''Dad?'' D'Argo asked, but before he could continue his mother entered the room and forced him to go to bed and sleep.

A couple of arns had passed since Jack's funeral, and the moon reflected the sun's bright light upon the dark world's surface.

''John?'' Aeryn asked. ''Are you coming to bed as well?''

It took a while before John answered that question.

''No.'' he finally said. ''I'm going for a walk.''

He stood up and left.

Aeryn sighed in pain.

Why would he not talk to her?

* * *

The guards helped Crichton elude the crowd of people and reporters who were anxious to catch a glimpse of him and he escaped the hotel through a back alley-way.

There he found himself waiting for the sky to fall on his head.

He kept on walking through this cold Christmas night.

Through this cold, endless city.

This city where nothing had changed.

Absolutely nothing.

Crichton had roamed the universe, meeting unbelievable aliens and facing incredible odds.

And here on Earth, things stayed pretty much the same.

The same cars were zooming by through the night, blinding John with their enormous head-lights.

The same people, walking by, every singly day and night.

For a moment, John could not believe he actually dreamt of returning to this awful place, after years of traveling the wonderful universe.

This grim place. This bleak place.

''Frell you!'' someone shouted in the distance, followed by an insane honking of a car-horn.

Crichton saw three people blocking the middle of the road and one of them shouted furiously at the car.

''Bite me!'' he shouted.

It seemed to be two young girls, who were carrying a tall, drunk man, and helping him cross the street.

The man yelled at the driver some more, before the two girls finally did take him to John's side of the street.

''John!'' the man suddenly shouted.

He ran towards him, and John froze, and couldn't help but laugh as he recognised the man who walked into the light.

''D'Argo?'' John asked.

''John, you've got to come see this...'' D'Argo said smiling.

''It's this place. It's great. I've never seen anything like it...''

''It's called a shower.'' John said.

D'Argo smelled like he had been thrown into a barrel of beer.

D'Argo laughed loudly at John's joke.

''I really missed your sense of humour!'' he said laughing.

''Now come one! You've got to see this place!''

* * *

D'Argo's ghost dragged John to some night-club, where young people gathered, drank alcohol and danced till they dropped.

''I'm too old for this, D'Argo.'' Crichton said, trying to talk over the loud music as he followed the Luxan and his two female companions.

He could feel the vibrations of the music stirring up his stomach.

''You're never too old enough to have fun!'' D'Argo replied loudly.

''WE are!'' John said.

''Just calm down, Crichton.'' D'Argo said. ''Have a beer.''

It was very crowded. They couldn't find a place to sit down, so D'Argo scared some people away to make way for the four of them.

''Look.'' Crichton said as he sat down in front of D'Argo. ''I understand that you would want to do this sort of thing, since you're dead and all, but I wouldn't!''

''Dead?'' D'Argo asked.

''You died 8 years ago!'' Crichton replied.

D'Argo shook his head.

''I'm not dead.''

''You are!'' Crichton replied.

''No, I'm not.'' D'Argo said.

''And how would you know that? You're only a memory drawn from my subconscious mind!''

D'Argo's anger grew.

''I don't know, okay?'' he said. ''I just feel it somehow. I survived. I'm still out there somewhere...''

''You're unbelievable, D'Argo.'' Crichton concluded.

''Well, my friend, you're absolutely right.'' D'Argo said as he put another beer against his lips.

''After 8 years,'' Crichton said. ''You haven't changed one bit.''

* * *

Crichton spent the following three hours watching D'Argo dance with his two female companions.

And after three hours, he decided he could not stand it any longer.

D'Argo!'' Crichton yelled, as he made his way to the dance-floor.

''D'Argo, you frelling son of a bitch!''

D'Argo didn't hear him as he danced along at the beat of the music.

Crichton couldn't get to him; the club was overcrowded.

''D'Argo!''

Still nothing.

Crichton noticed a familiar disco-ball hanging on the ceiling, reflecting various light throughout the club.

''Could'a, should'a, would'a...'' Crichton said to himself, as he grabbed Winona and aimed it at the reflecting ball.

With one perfect shot he destroyed the ball AND the party.

''What did you do that for?'' D'Argo yelled.

Disco-ball debris was flying all over the place as the music stopped and all of the people fled the dance-floor.

''I've had it with this place!'' Crichton yelled.

''Then why didn't you say so!'' D'Argo replied. ''You didn't have to blow up the frelling disco-ball!''

''Yeah, well, it made me feel better...'' John said.

Blowing stuff up: the best way to deal with things.

''You know why I'm fed up with this place?'' John went on. ''Because you've been dancing for three hours in a row! You were supposed to show me something! Teach me something! That's what Jack did anyway!''

''I have been trying to show you something, John!'' D'Argo shouted. ''But you were too thick to realise that, or to even frelling understand!''

D'Argo seemed to prepare to yell, but suddenly calmed down.

''It's about having fun.'' he finally said.

''It's about living the moment, John. Making the most of your life!''

John said nothing.

Neither did D'Argo.

They only smiled at each other, realising what fuss they were creating in this place.

''Nice shot, though...'' D'Argo said, pointing at the ceiling.

''Thanks.'' John said. ''I've been practising.''

They both laughed at each other, and kept on laughing as they were both grabbed by the club's security and thrown outside, into the street.

They couldn't stop laughing as they both crawled up on their feet.

''I haven't had this fun in years.'' John said.

''Me too.'' D'Argo said.

John looked around.

The city suddenly seemed a lot brighter. And happier.

''Where are those girls?'' John asked. ''And who the frell were they?''

''I haven't got the slightest clue.'' D'Argo said, and they both bursted out in laughter again.

''I'm going to miss you.'' John said to his friend, knowing that he would soon fade away, just like Jack had.

''I named my son after you.'' he quickly added.

D'Argo was surprised.

''Really?'' he said. ''You named him 'Ka'?''

Crichton fell to the ground in laughter and D'Argo had to hold on to a lamp-post before he would have done the same.

''I named him D'Argo!'' Crichton said.

''I am...I am truly honoured.'' D'Argo said. ''I mean it.''

''I really am going to miss you.'' John said.

''I know.'' D'Argo replied.

They shook hands, before hugging each other.

''Before I go...'' D'Argo said. ''I feel that I must warn you...''

John had a hunch about what this would be about.

''The third ghost...'' D'Argo said. ''The Ghost of Christmas Future...''

D'Argo faded away.

''Be wary of him.''

His voice turned into an echo.

''Don't underestimate what he can do to you...''

As D'Argo disappeared, John was left to walk the cold streets alone, pondering the Luxan's last words...


	4. The Ghost of Christmas Future

This night turned out to be one of the longest nights of Crichton's life.

And one of the coldest of Christmasses ever: snow started to fall upon the ground again.

Everything slowly turned white, making John forget his way back to the hotel.

Stray dogs were barking at the moon.

All roads were abandoned.

And all Crichton could think about was this third ghost.

He started to wonder whether these were real ghosts, or fragments of his own imagination and mind.

Could be both.

Maybe this time people were really telling the truth: that John Crichton was going crazy.

But that didn't have to be the case.

These ghosts could just as well be the result of some unknown Christmas magic, which Crichton had never believed in before.

But seeing his father and friend come back from the dead slowly convinced Crichton otherwise.

He wondered what either Zhaan or Stark would have to say about this, if they were here. And alive.

Who knows?

Maybe one of them will turn out to be the third ghost.

He hoped so.

But a gut feeling was telling Crichton that neither of them would be paying him a visit tonight.

It was something D'Argo said that had spooked John into thinking this.

The warning he gave before he faded away.

Something dark was on it's way.

Crichton could feel it.

* * *

The joy he had felt as he laughed together with D'Argo, just like old times, faded away quite quickly and John walked through the cold Christmas night alone and tired, longing for his bed.

Suddenly it seemed like there was a shadow cast on the Earth, as dark clouds moved in front of the moon and streetlights started to malfunction.

Darkness followed wherever Crichton went.

''I've got a bad feeling about this.'' John said, knowing exactly what he was saying.

''This is not right.''

D'Argo's last words started to echo through John's mind again.

''The Ghost of Christmas Future.'' John whispered.

Shivers went down his spine as he said it.

''The future...''

What DID the future have in store for him?

What lied ahead in the eternal darkness of his life?

John felt like there was something missing inside of him. Like he was incomplete.

Like someone had taken away one of his vital organs without him knowing about it.

John felt like he was wasting his time.

Like he had fulfilled his purpose in life years ago, and all he did now was wander.

Like a ghost.

He simply lingered on as an echo of his former life.

A life of being hunted through the galaxy. A life as a fugitive.

A life he had learned to love, because it made him feel important. Needed. Powerful.

But now?

Chiana and Jothee had left together with Rygel to Hyneria, leaving Crichton and Aeryn to raise their son D'Argo on Moya.

But was that all that was left for Crichton to do with the rest of his life?

Was there nothing more?

Was this the end?

''Death awaits us all in the end, John.'' a voice said in the distance.

A voice John hadn't heard in 8 years.

A voice John hoped never to hear again.

As John looked around, he saw a dark figure standing on the other side of the street.

''You?!!'' John said.

''For everything there is a season. A time to be born. And a time to die.''

''You...are the third ghost?!''

''Indeed I am.'' Scorpius said calmly to the astronaut as he crossed the street and walked towards him.

''I am the Ghost of Christmas Future.''

John aimed his old and faithful gun Winona at the ghost of the Scarran hybrid who once haunted his dreams.

''Why you?'' he whispered afraid.

Suddenly a car appeared out of nowhere, crashing into John, standing in the middle of the road, as it's brakes failed.

''Always look before you cross the road, John.'' Scorpius said smiling, shaking his head.

* * *

John woke up in a familiar darkness.

He tried to pull the sheets off of his head, but there were no sheets.

Only wood.

As he tried to find a way out, he began to realise what was going on.

He was in a coffin.

And he was being buried alive.

He kicked and screamed and tried to scratch his way out with his nails.

But just as he thought all was lost, the coffin opened with a screaking sound, and John immediately grabbed the opportunity to get out of this hell.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins as John climbed out of the hole and out of this nightmare.

His hands were covered with dirt.

He saw hundreds of people gathered around him, on this strange hill.

All dressed in mournful black.

No-one seemed to look at John, so he quickly jumped out of sight, behind a strange old tree, before anyone did see him.

As John calmed down and regained his senses, he started to realize...

He was not in Kansas anymore.

He looked up at the sky and saw three purple moons gazing back.

''Where the frell am I?'' Crichton said to himself. ''And who are all these people?''

They seemed familiar somehow.

John saw a Hynerian Dominar, surrounded by his servants.

John saw a Banik slave, accompanied by a young, Delvian, girl.

John saw two Nebari, a brother and sister, walking next to two Luxans, a father and a son.

John saw an old Sebacean woman, accompanied by a Sebecean man, her son.

And finally John saw a Scarran hybrid, dressed in a black, leather body-armour, walking towards him.

''Hello, John.'' Scorpius whispered as he leaned against the other side of the tree.

John did not look at him.

He kept on gazing at the old Sebacean woman.

She was crying.

''This...'' John said with fear in his voice.

''This is a funeral.''

Scorpius only smiled slightly and even compassionate as he looked upon the human's face.

''This is my funeral.''

Scorpius said nothing.

The Sebacean man walked towards John's grave.

''Hey, dad.'' D'Argo-Sun Crichton said.

John's son.

John's blood.

John's legacy.

''A voice inside my head says I should apologise for not being there when you died.'' he went on.

Everyone had already left.

Only he and his mother remained standing on this strange, peaceful hill, on this alien planet.

John stood silently behind the tree, watching his grown-up son speak his final words to his dead father.

To John.

''But...that same voice also says that there would be no need.''

D'Argo smiled.

''That you would understand.''

John smiled back.

D'Argo was silent for a moment, not knowing how to continue.

''There isn't much I could tell you right now that you didn't already know.'' D'Argo said.

''That I love you.''

''I love you too, son.'' John whispered behind the tree.

Scorpius said nothing, knowing that he did not have to.

''And that...and that I'm going to miss you.'' D'Argo continued.

John wiped the tears from his eyes.

''And that I'm sorry.''

''There.'' D'Argo added. ''I said it.''

D'Argo began to cry too.

''Oh, I told myself not to cry, but here I go anyway...''

''That's okay.'' John whispered as tears rolled over his cheeks.

''Crichton's don't cry...'' D'Argo said.

''Often.'' both said.

* * *

''Tell me, Scorpius.'' Crichton said as he looked upon the Scarran hybrid.

Moonlight reflected upon John's tombstone.

''Did I live my life?'' John said. ''Did I make the most of it?''

Scorpius smiled.

''Only you know the answer to that question, Crichton.'' Scorpius replied.

John's surroundings faded away.

Scorpius faded away.

Crichton was left standing in the alley behind the hotel.

As a new man.

John looked up at the sky, watching a bright blue light fade away into the everlasting darkness of the night.

And just as it disappeared, John saw the sun rise above the horizon, fighting to let its rays penetrate the dark city.

John smiled as he made his way to the hotel's entrance.

And although he had stayed up all night and hadn't had any sleep, he didn't feel tired whatsoever.


	5. Merry Christmas

''Look what the cat dragged in.'' Aeryn said, using an Earth english saying as John entered the suite on Christmas morning.

He looked battered, defeated, triumphant and glad, all at the same time.

A million things roamed through John's head as he looked upon Aeryn's worried eyes.

Sadness, laughter, fear, and fulfillment.

Past, present and future.

Things looked so logical, yet so out of place.

Everything made sense, but nothing seemed right.

''I heard you had fun last night.'' Aeryn said incriminating as she threw a tabloid in John's hands.

Crichton saw his son D'Argo sitting scared and worried by the window, looking at his father in confusion.

Why was Aeryn so angry?

Crichton read the tabloid.

It was a local paper.

A caption at the top said:

''EXPLODING DISCO-BALL. JOHN CRICHTON'S WORK??''

''Busted.'' a laughing voice said in John's mind as he picked some disco-ball debris from his hair.

''What should I say?'' John said to Aeryn.

''I don't know, John.'' Aeryn replied. ''Something.''

Crichton said nothing as she went on.

''I know that there are times that you want to be left alone. And I know that your father's death hit you pretty hard. But this is going too far, John.''

Aeryn stopped for breath, but her tantrum hadn't ended yet.

And Crichton just kept on listening patiently, and he did not interrupt her, knowing that he deserved it, and that she had every right to yell at him right now.

''Since the funeral, you haven't spoken one single word to me. To us.'' Aeryn said. ''You cannot do this, Crichton. We're your family. You can't shut us out. Tell me what's troubling you, Crichton.''

''Please.'' she added.

John looked her in the eyes.

''You're right.'' he said. ''You're absolutely right.''

''And I'm sorry.'' he added.

''I've had a hard time lately. Strange...things have happened to me today. Things which I don't understand.''

John stopped for a moment as he was reminded of the three spirits of Christmas.

''But they happened for a reason. And that reason...is this.''

John gently grabbed Aeryn's chin as their noses touched, lips merged and tongues intertwined.

In that single kiss, their hearts were beating as one.

''Commander Crichton?'' a voice suddenly said. ''Aeryn? Do you read me?''

Slowly Crichton and Aeryn let go of each other.

''Pilot.'' Aeryn said, ''You're back.''

Crichton was glad to hear Pilot's voice.

But he was even more thrilled to see a smile on Aeryn's face again.

''Merry Christmas, honey.'' John said to her.

''Come here!'' he said to the boy sitting by the window.

''I want to kiss you too!''

D'Argo ran with a big smile on his face to his parents.

''Oh.'' Crichton said, as he hugged his family.

He had accepted his past.

He loved the present.

And he no longer feared the future.

John Crichton finally found what he was looking for.

His answers. His happiness. His purpose.

His family.

''God bless us.'' John said. ''Every single one.''

* * *

John had tried to teach his friends about the celebration of Christmas in the past, but that failed miserably.

So, they never celebrated Christmas on Moya, and after a while, Crichton himself forgot the true meaning of Christmas.

And it would take three Christmas ghosts to remind him of that.

Now, Christmas would be celebrated on Moya, and it would be the happiest time of the cycle.

Sometimes John and his family would even celebrate Christmas with a visit to Earth, but only when they're in the neighborhood.

Because they don't need Earth to celebrate Christmas.

Every day is Christmas, as long as they have each other.

THE END


End file.
